


Breathe

by The Endogeny (purgatorypancakes)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Huzzah I am a sucker for angst, Just friends being friends, No Ship, PHIL I THINK IM DYING, Pain, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purgatorypancakes/pseuds/The%20Endogeny
Summary: Dan has had anxiety attacks before.He knew he was screwed up seven ways to Sunday, and they weren't something he could avoid- he knew they would happen.This was different. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't register and it hurt- oh god it hurt- and- phone! Phones in your pocket- gotta call someone, he thinks, I'm dying, but he doesn't remember how to call and his best friend pops up in his mind and he presses randomly until Siri pops up, and he gasps, he chokes out "call Phil."





	

He had broken the mug. That was it. They had a million other mugs in the cabinet, it should have been fine.  
It had broken in his hands, there was glass and- oh God. He was bleeding.

That particularly didn't seem to agree with him today. His breathing spiked faster, the longer he looked at it the worse he felt. His room began to look funny, he heard static in his ears, but the overwhelming sense of dread didn't leave too much to be concerned about. He moved away from the mug, remnants clattering to the floor. The longer he looked the more the room started to sway, but he couldn't look away. His vision was fuzzy. He was gone, then, for good knows how long-how was he supposed to know?- and there was a sickening crunch on the way down.  
He came back screaming. He stumbled to his feet, bracing on the counter, near the mug. He looked at his arm with a never ending swell of panic and a detached sort of alarm.

Dan has had anxiety attacks before.  
He knew he was screwed up seven ways to Sunday, and they weren't something he could avoid- he knew they would happen.  
This was different. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't register and it hurt- oh god it hurt- and- phone! Phones in your pocket- gotta call someone, he thinks, I'm dying, but he doesn't remember how to call and his best friend pops up in his mind and he presses randomly until Siri pops up, and he gasps, he chokes out "call Phil." It was a wonder it wasn't broken, he thinks. His mouth felt like cotton and the impact on his hip felt worse.  
He doesn't know how she recognized those words and he honestly didn't care- but relief was evident when Phil picked up even though he was out, he had errands.  


"Excuse me," He heard Phil say, and he heard walking and Phil will make it better it's fine Phil can help and call the police. The ambulance, maybe. His arm was still funny and he was still on the brink of passing out again.  
He vaguely recognized the trickle of something warm on his palms as he struggled to breathe, his clothes were sticking to him and suffocating and he was dying, oh god he was dying, he wishes Phil would hurry up and say something.  
"Dan! Dan, are you ok? I told you not to call unless it was an emergency, Dan, you wouldn't do it, what's wrong?"  


Phil was rambling and he knew it as he struggled to conceal the alarm in his voice.  
"Phil," he gasped, almost crying with relief, he didn't know how he was still standing, and oh wait, not anymore, he crumpled to ground which made more stars explode across his vision- bad arm smacked the counter, and a struggled, pained sob broke from his mouth. It still felt like he was sucking on gauze. The ringing in his ears increased and he barely heard Phil speaking but at this point he didn't know what would actually bring him back.  
"Dan! Dan, I'm on my way now, stay with me, keep on, come on, you can do it," alarm was breaking through his calm facade now that he had heard the crash and it only increased the panic.  
"Dan, what's wrong?" Phil asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, and at last he only managed to whimper pitifully in pain.  


"Phil- god, Phil, I can't breathe, Phil please, what the absolute- Phil I think I'm dying I need to breathe to live-" He wheezed a strange breath and his heart was going fast. Maybe too fast. It felt like his legs were jelly but he was so far gone he couldn't bring himself to care, only tilt his head and stare at the funny arm.  
"It's ok, Dan, you'll be ok- I'm almost there, stay on the phone." His head wasn't clear enough to think about an ambulance.  
Dan could feel the thuds of his heavy footsteps on the stairs after an eternity and he heard the front door slam open and shut and Phil was there and he wanted to cry again with relief so he did and his phone clattered to the ground. Maybe it would break this time. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity as Phil babbled on the phone to keep him awake.  


He heard Phil hang up.  
"P-Phil- Phil- I'm dying what the help me Phil I can't **breathe** Phil please-" He sobbed and couldn't talk past the lump in his throat. He heard Phil gasp in alarm at his funny angled arm and he started to see spots again. Phil must of spotted something- he was white as a ghost anyways. He flinched at the glassy eyed stare Dan gave him as his head lolled.  


He scrambled up despite not being able to move one arm and screeched in pain when the bad arm smacked the counter again. He promptly went back down. Phil hovered, unsure of what to do, and haltingly brought a hand to Dan's shoulder. The moment it made contact he hissed and peddled backwards, snacking his back to the wall. Phil flinched back, wanting to scream in frustration because it didn't look like Dan was dying- his arm was just wrong- and yet he was on the inside and he didn't know how to help. His look of glazed terror was eating him.  


Phil reached his hand towards him again.  
"Don't touch- Don't touch me Phil," he whimpered, cowering and burying his head in his knees, hiding from the light. Arm was flopped pathetically. Phil guessed it had no use anymore.  
Phil caught on and clicked it off.  
"Dan?" He asked softly. He still didn't know what to do. He heard the unsteady breaths coming in short gasps of air.  
"Phil- Phil I can't breathe," Dan said, voice high and taught with pain and fear, and Phil cringed on the inside.  
"Yes you can, Dan, breathe with me, ok? Inhale, Exhale."  
"Inhale, Exhale," Dan repeated weakly, sucking in a pitiful breath.  
"There you go, you can do it, come on. Inhale, Exhale, Inhale, Exhale, Inhale, Exhale."  
Phil cheered on the inside as he saw his friend respond.  


"Can I touch you, Dan, to see if you're running a fever?" He asked. He really didn't know how to help and wasn't thinking. Dan tensed and nodded. He smoothed a hand over his forehead, which seemed normal, and held it there, focus captured by a vein pounding in high relief. He left it there for a little too long.  
The agony his friend was going through was crushing him. .  
Dan hunched lower.  
"Phil," He said. "I know, I know." They stayed for a while. 

He sat by Dan. Exhaustion and numbness seemed to be catching up with him. He sighed in relief- even if he was no help now, he could do a lot later.  
"Hurts," Dan mumbled. His head lolled onto Phil's shoulder. His breathing was still tight, but slowing down.  
"I know, Dan. We're gonna have to get you checked out just in case."  
He became aware of the fact that he had bitten through his lip. Again, his odd arm caught his attention, with the numb sort of attachment. He didn't have any emotion left to give.  
"Bleeding?" Dan asked faintly.  
"Yes, Dan."  
Dan cursed into Phil's shirt.  


"Hurts," he whimpered again, and he flinched when he unexpectedly felt a hand in his hair but sighed and settled. Phil internally smiled with success. Hesitantly, he kept it there. His heart was pounding, Dan was still glassy eyed, but his breathing was evening out. He barked a wry laugh. Dan was calming down.  
"Phil...what was that?" He mumbled, and Phil pondered on a hunch of his.  
"You have anxiety attacks, don't you, Dan?" Phil asked.  
"Yeah?"  
"I think that was a full blown one."  
"Oh."  
"We have to go to the ER."  
"Oh."  


"What...what happened?" His eyes strayed to the bloody mug, and the thin cut he had failed to notice earlier, with small shards of glass. "I broke the mug." Phil did what he could with his hand, trying not to shake while cleaning and bandaging it. He smiled nervously at the change from pure terror to exhaustion induced numbness. Completely opposite sides, both of which he never viewed from this intensity, at least not usually. Dan offered a shaky smile, exhausted, but with some semblance of his normal self. He gave one back. 

He sighed. 

Dan sighed too and looked at him. He looked back. "Thanks," he offered. "So much." He gave a small smile, closer to himself. The adrenaline was wearing off and Phil could physically see the discomfort grow on his face. 

"Right," there was no point for an ambulance now, especially when they were so close to the nearest hospital. 

Phil called an Uber.


End file.
